Release
by JamyGrint
Summary: A Story of recovery....More information and warnings inside!
1. Pilot

_WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS SELF HARM AND DEPRESSION!  
A/N: Hey guys....so I've got a bit impatient and decided to publish the first chapter of my new story: I really want to know what you all think. Now I know I have some explaining to do-I wrote this story because I want there to be a lager awareness on the subject of depression and self harm; This is a story of recovery, to show you can get better if suffering from depression. This is a story very close to my heart, somebody I love dearly has fought with depression for years, and recently resorted to self-harm, it was a huge eye opener for me, not only because I was sick beyond worry, it was that I didn't much about the issue.  
Like I say, its a story about recovery, going through all the ups and downs every one goes through; its got many of my feelings in it (mainly coming from the outside view of a family member), In a way I wrote it for me, to help me deal what had happened...Please note I wont be offended if you don't like reading stories like this, or if its too strong or close to home...  
Am going to stop here, before the author's note becomes longer than the chapter-and I break down.....I will only just post this chapter for now...I want to finish or nearly finish the whole thing before its all posted..shouldnt be long...am writing everyday.  
Thank you for listening, understanding and being patient with me (I will update Aftershock when my inspiration returns) Much Love-x A x  
P.S. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! :)  
**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter! ** _

* * *

It was over. The blackness was overpowering the light, creating a depressed blanket over the tall misshaped house. This safe haven was set in large open fields, providing protection, peace and purification to the unique home. Sat proudly at the very end of the fenced garden was a new garden feature.

The feature reminded the inhabitancies of strange, full yet lonely house of what they had been fighting for; what and who they lost, and who they had gained. The grave had only been filled that very morn, with a smart mahogany coffin, flowers, and mementos, reminding his siblings of the deceased.

The surrounding area was silent, and still, not even the animals dared to move, it was almost as if they sensed the grief pulsing from within the rickety building. All but one was resting, finally catching up on the lost sleep that seemed non-existent over the pass week. Six men and three women, breathing calmly, allowing the final goodbyes curdle into happy memories playing like a video tape in their dreams. Sadness had become a part of the walls…only slight mild relief had been granted at the emotional funeral. The owners of the house had finally relaxed from checking on their remaining children every hour of the night, keeping an eye on three of them in particular.

Every night had been the same; each taking it in turns to check the occupied bedrooms. Every night they would step into the girl's room, panicking when finding a bed empty, causing them to check every room before finding the girl curled up beside two boys, all sound asleep on the floor underneath a shared a blanket.

On this particular calm night however, there only appeared that one was missing. They were in the room. Looking out onto the fresh grave, the white marble of the headstone reflecting in the moonlight. It looked beautiful, as pure as the world they knew of was now… They had achieved so much, in so little time with surviving, painfully. Their eyes seemed to move around the area, as if conducting surveillance, the past year had taught them all to be high alert for any danger; of being caught.

It had been a while since they had felt this feeling, something that was so intense that there was only one way to relieve it. The ton of guilt weighed heavy on their heart, that niggling voice telling him he could have stopped it, he could have saved the dead if he was fast enough.

He remembered the first time; the pure bliss that ran through his body as he had placed the beautiful, shiny razor against his skin, pulling it sharply, slashing until the wonderful blood came seeping through the cuts. He had remembered how hard he found it; placing the blade onto his skin, he wasn't scared of the pain, nor death, but the of the release if offered him, would it give him so much he wouldn't need to repeat his actions? It was same question he asked every time he had felt low. He had become addicted to the pain, and the sight of his own blood dripping from the glorious scars he had created.

He had been feeling the build up to this night for weeks; he had tried to quit, resisting reaching out for any sharp item in his eye line and feeling the cool metal caress his skin. He knew he was being watched; every member of the family, plus his two best friends had kept a close eye on him since they left the Great Hall. He knew he had changed, it was what war did to people: well that was his excuse anyway. He had become distant from everyone, only joining the company of his family when he was physically pulled from his room and down the stairs.

He knew the night was his alibi, it allowed him to have time to dwell and get lost in his mixed, messed up thoughts; thinking over the past week, year even, it was easy to feel the emotional pain becoming too much on his damaged heart; watching your brother die, the girl you love enduring pain, when in reality you wished it was you for more reasons than anyone knew. He smiled at the slight thought of the Cruciatus Curse being thrown towards his body, how the exquisite pain could free him. He slashed the object that he had been stroking in his hand so fast against his skin it was nothing but a flash of silver. Again and again, he moved it expertly against his skin, memorizing the traces of blood creating patterns on his arm. He could taste the sweet metal in his mouth, savoring the taste to stop himself from crying out in pleasure as he created a new line of perfection.

He allowed himself to enjoy his artwork for a little longer, before performing the appropriate healing spells: ones which clean and stop the bleeding but allow the physical pain to continue its hypnotic throbs. He knew no one would notice the extra scars, already marred by circles from the Ministry brains, and knicks from the birds, someone was yet to discover his new editions, plus his family had other issues invading their heads to notice him at all. Still he couldn't take chances, he pulled down the sleeves of his t-shirt and climbed back into the makeshift bed they had created, in order to watch the sunrise comfortably.


	2. Another Day In Paradise

_A/N: Heres chapter two...enjoy! Please read and review! xAx_

**DISCLAIMER: STILL OWN NOTHING! **

He never trusted the day; it was too pure, too safe, too comforting. He could understand how people came to enjoy the light of a breezy summer afternoon, basking in the glory of the sun; every bad thing you ever heard about tended to occur under the watch of the moon, whenever they had been on a dangerous adventure it was always at night. But the idea of day came with a thought that it was hiding something sinister, tricking people with the purity of the sun that all was well. It was a warped sense of logic, but that's how he thought; he hated thinking that there was something evil out there being protected by the safety of the light. He noticed it more during their time in the tent, he knew both Harry and Hermione had felt safer when they could see the strangely beautiful country side they had at that point been staying, but for Ron it was another reminder that they didn't know where Voldemort or his Horcruxes were hiding.

He felt her turning, snuggling up to him, it had become a part of their routine; with him contributing by pretending to wake from an apparent peaceful sleep; when the truth was, he hadn't slept a full nights sleep in nearly a year; he spent months trying to devise a plan in order the find the Horcruxes, his dreams filled with images of broken, random items, the locket appearing more than once. Then it came to the actual hunt- the little sleep he did get being interrupted by necessary watches of the tent. Now it seemed when ever he closed his eyes, the pictures that had been burned on his brain since the battle replayed themselves; the wall falling, the desperate shouts of Percy calling for his brother, the last look of humour on Fred's face….

Harry was awake of course. Ron had heard him move about the room before descending the stairs to help Ginny make breakfast. He saw it as allowing Ron and Hermione their own time whilst getting Ginny all alone. Ron had accepted the concept-he was even glad of it-it was a routine, something he needed, thrived with, but both he and Hermione knew the time was not fully enjoyed, especially since Ron hardly said a word anymore.

They shared a morning kiss-another morning routine-before Hermione headed to her supposed room to dress before meeting in the kitchen. The quiet was piercing; the only sound was that of bowls and plates being placed on the table. It was the same breakfast they had everyday; no words were spoken amongst the family, just the sniffs of their mother could be heard, there was too much food prepared, eating the last thing on their minds. Their meal times were the only hours they seemed to spend together these days. All going their separate ways once everyone has barely eaten. George would wonder off, no doubt heading to the old tire swing that sat between the two oak trees, Charlie would fly, Bill sometimes going with him, or taking long walks with Fleur, Percy would sit with George before retreating inside and sitting in the living room with his parents; all staring at the walls. On his bad days, Ron would retreat to his bedroom, locking out everybody, however on his good days he would join Harry, Ginny and Hermione in the tree house, where they would, for a few hours, act their proper age, playing chess and in Hermione's case, read.

Today, he knew was going to be on of those bad days. He could almost see the black cloud of depression swirling around the table and landing heavily on his shoulders. He therefore got up from his seat ignoring the looks given from Hermione and Harry and wondered up to his room.

He didn't want to be alone, yet he found it hard to be around people, it was always a concept he struggled with; he found it claustrophobic when he found him self in a room with all his family, one of the reasons why he tended to stay in the back ground and away from the attention, even though he secretly craved it. But he liked being on his own, he didn't need to hide away, he allowed himself to be him, to embrace the glory of his scares, there was no lying.

He knew trying to sleep was impossible, their was no point in attempting to tidy his room – the last time he had attempted it, his emotions got to him, resulting in the wrecking of his room… before he knew it, he found himself looking for the blade he had hidden under his floorboards. Instead he sat on his window sill and watched George walk to the swing alone. Ron hadn't attempted to try and feel what his brother was feeling; his own cold feeling of the loneliness, eclipsed everyone else's suffering but his own, he felt a physical pain in his heart over never seeing Fred again-the person he saw as indestructible; it hurt never to see his face, his smile, to hear his laugh or just his voice. He didn't want to understand how George was feeling, it wasn't his right and quite frankly he didn't care.

He found himself carefully fingering his scars, tracing his fingers in the rigid circles created by the brains, the pecks by Hermione's birds… the beautiful ones he himself had created. Each one represented him and how he failed; the brains due to his failure to be back up for Harry, the birds, due to his inability to be the man Hermione deserves, and then his self inflictions… his own failures-all starting from his fourth year. He didn't know why all his problems had begun during that said year. The depression he had been feeling started in the first few weeks in the summer holiday-he had presumed it was the affects of becoming an adolescent however the blackness of his thoughts never seemed to go away, they just got darker and deeper informing him how to correct his bad ways. He tried, he really did… to ignore what his head was saying…to attempt to laugh and make jokes, but the constant whispering was slowly and painfully ripping apart his soul. In his irrational mind he blamed Harry for his first cut; Harry the wonderful marvel who had all the potential to win the Triwizard Tournament, who had somehow managed to enter, despite his age. Ron truly knew, deep down, it was no ones fault. In fact he had no idea what made him place the blade to his arm and pull, all he knew was that it was easy, the pain was glorious, it was a relief, even it was only temporary and addictive.

He found it easier to resist the temptation of cutting when he was alone… not that he was ever free of it. He would wallow in his feelings, cave to them and sink into his black thought bubble. Ron often found that he managed to receive a few hours restless sleep once he had given in, it was one of the few ways he managed to prove to his family he was coping with the current situation, it was all about the strategy. However whenever he was surrounded by people the need for the release usually became too much; the overpowering urge to cause pain, to feel the blood pounding in his face, his ears, finding it's exit. He had managed to find ways to harm himself whilst in the company of his family without letting anyone know; a burn from the oven, a cut finger whilst chopping vegetables-an activity he always insisted doing the muggle way even since he became of age.

He awoke to the sound of his sister in law's voice ringing through the household; Fleur had taken on most of the house hold chores ever since they returned from Hogwarts. Ron always managed to miss lunch something he was grateful off; there was only so many times he could take in the mournful faces of his family, hear Percy's guilty apologies, and try to consume food he really didn't feel hungry for. Dinner, however, was not a meal he could miss; he detested supper the most, not because it meant he was forced to sit at a table with his family and appear to eat, it was the events that took place after, where, as his mother had exclaimed one meal time:

"Evenings will be a time for family; we will therefore spend them together"

They had all fallen into the routine of adjourning to the living room, to listen to the wireless and play countless games of Wizard Chess. All Ron wanted was to return to his bedroom in peace to lay and watch the beauty of the sunset before laying in the darkness. He had come up with all the excuses he could think off in order to get away from the absurd 'family time'- none of which have worked.

Hours had passed having already beaten everyone twice at a game of chess; he simply couldn't take anymore, with everyone else's attention otherwise occupied during Bill and Charlie game. Ron managed to sneak out, his easy escape came did not surprise him; he was too practised. He climbed up to his room and found one of his hidden blades.

He sighed, he had promised himself he wasn't going to do this today, but he was a failure, he should have known better…his promises didn't mean anything back in the Horcrux Hunt…why should it now?

He perfected his strokes, angling the blade carefully to get the result, the pain was beautiful, it filled him up with all the bliss he needed. He allowed the blood to run dry, enjoying the sensations, before cleaning it with his wand to reveal his art:

The engraving of the initials:

FGW.


	3. Aint No Sunshine

_A/N: Hey guys! A BIG thank you to those who have put this story on their alerts...It means so much to me! So far chapter eight is in progress, so its getting there I'm going to keep you in check with the warnings just to be on the safe side; this story does contain self harm and is based on the illness of depression. It can get dark and gory. Please, please, please review!  
Take care  
Love A!  
x x x  
_**DISCLAIMER: ** **I DO NOT OWN RON, HARRY, HERMIONE, GEORGE, GINNY, OR ANY OTHER CHARACTER, PLACE AND WORLD.**

The next few weeks weren't getting any easier, that was in Ron's opinion anyway. There was a definite improvement within The Burrow; Mrs Weasley had returned to the daily chores, she conducted each carefully, quietly sniffing as she folded the laundry, and openly crying when preparing the meals; something she blamed on the onions, even if there was none. Bill and Fleur had returned to Shell Cottage, although they still frequently visited The Burrow for dinner. Mr Weasley, Bill and a reluctant Percy had all maintained jobs re-building what was left of the Ministry; Fleur remained behind to keep Molly company. Charlie was soon to go back to Romania once his required compassionate leave was finished. George and Harry were making regular trips to the shop in which to assess how and when it should be open, while Hermione had retrieved her parents from Australia and was currently living out her punishment in London for another couple of days.

Ron however had remained in his room since Harry and Hermione had embarked on their individual tasks. Both George and Harry had tried to coax him out of his sudden isolation without much luck. The task was then passed onto Ginny, who had to sit vigil at his door-knocking at every hour. Ron knew it was, soon, to be a give away there was more with him than just grieving for his brother, the questions would soon start and his privacy would be invaded, but right now he didn't care. He didn't plan on eating yet either, the hunger pangs were so intense, he was beginning to become obsessed with them.

His self proclaimed isolation was beginning to take its toll on the rest of the family; they all presumed it was because of Hermione's absence, and in truth, a part of it was, she seemed to be the only one who motivated him, brought the smallest bit of happiness to his miserable life. But Hermione's absence wasn't the only reason why he stayed in his room; it was due to Mrs Steed, the counsellor, issued by the Ministry to all its workers, it was an absurd system, and there was only meant to be one visit per family. However Mrs Steed saw it fit to return each week, due to the fact that three members of this family performed a crucial part in the war and the final fall of Voldemort. The annoying woman had arranged three separate meeting for Ron, Harry and Hermione, something they had all yet to face; they had agreed to attend a session altogether but Mrs Steed seemed intent on having separate meetings.

She turned up at the same time every single day. At around eleven in the morning and waited for at least two hours before leaving to visit other clients, or to conduct paperwork. Ron had point blank refused to talk to her-even in the company of his family; it was only with the encouragement of Hermione that he agreed to sit in the same room as the annoying woman. He loathed everything about her; from her childlike girly voice, to the grey tweed suits she wore. She was a tall, thin woman, who was probably beautiful in her youth, however, now her hair was grey-with a few streaks of her original colour. Her face had lost its plumpness, her skin had become saggy, her lips thin and her hazel eyes had lost their kindness. They would spend the hour scrutinizing Ron, daring him to talk with snide comments before he simply told her to "fuck off" and walked out the room.

From that day on he had avoided her and his family. He had not left the confinements of his bedroom, only allowing Hermione in during the morning she left for Australia, a part from her, no one-not even Harry was able to set foot through the door, who had taken to sleeping on the spare bed Hermione usually used in Ginny's room.

Ron appreciated the peace he was provided with at first, he was allowed to sink further into his black thoughts and not be interrupted. He didn't have to see the worried faces of his family, to see them exchange the not so subtle looks between them. He had been confronted by Bill, Charlie and Percy, all telling him it was going to be alright, that what he was feeling was normal and soon the memory of Fred wouldn't be so painful and that he would soon be able to think about him again. It was clear that they didn't truly know what he was feeling or thinking; he wasn't normal, it wasn't going to be alright, he already thought of Fred to give him the pain he needed. However, now the silence was filled with his manic voices running through his brain. His thoughts would turn momentarily into blissful white noise whenever he spilt his skin with the blade-they all vanished within his blood.

Ron found he was losing consciousness for unknown periods of times. He would wake up perched up on a wall, or on the floor when his body had simply decided it couldn't take the lack of food combined with losses of blood. He didn't mind, it made his day easier knowing that he was getting some kind of break from the world that was now his room, he considered a way of getting sleep-even if it was filled with images of war, his dead brother talking in poems, Hermione's face floating in midair and waterfalls of blood. He was very aware that his family probably could hear the thumbs of his collapsing through the thin walls, he also knew this had sparked even more worried conversations between his family and the gatherings outside his bedroom; he would often wake up in a confused stupor hearing the voices of his parents or brothers before blacking out again.


	4. Fragile

_A/N: Hello....So here's the new chapter! Just want to say a huge thank you for those who have put me on story alert, and to urbanmama for your review! I hope you guys like this instalment!  
Thanks again  
Love xAx _

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING OF WIZARDING WORLD!  
**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Thump! _The gathering at the table wasn't anything new. It was becoming a regular occurrence; they would join before dinner, counting the thumps from above, cringing every time. It was usually the only sound they could hear, although today the sound of Harry scribbling a note to Hermione filled the room. They all knew they needed to get Hermione as soon as possible; it was their only chance of getting Ron out of his room for a start.

The situation was beginning to get everyone down; Mrs Weasley tried her hardest to hide her tears whenever she heard a thump, or saw Ginny descending the stairs, a look of sheer disappointment and hurt on her face. Harry was beside himself, worry and guilt filling him, ready to overflow. Harry would join Ginny at Ron's bedroom door whenever he wasn't at the shop, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. George found himself sitting at the table with Fleur, counting, the days, the hours, minutes and seconds that he hadn't seen his little brother-his heart beating in panic, he wasn't sure if he could cope if he lost another brother-in fact-none of them could. Mr Weasley, Bill and Percy would wonder what sight was waiting for them at The Burrow. Both Bill and Percy showed the disappointment on their faces when they realised Ron hadn't joined them for dinner. Again.

_Thump! _The sound almost vibrated with the strength in which Ron fell.

"That makes three today." George muttered but everyone heard. The silence was deafening, no one knew what to say, the usual conversation was held over dinner to try to complete some normalcy.

There was an almighty crash that came from the back door, before anyone could say or look at each other Harry was running to the source of the noise. He returned to the room with a trunk saying four words as he did:

"Hermione got my letter."

_Hermione…_

She read the letter one last time before pulling out her wand and sending her trunk to The Burrow. She wondered on whether it was worth telling her parents where she was about go, no doubt they would hear her Disapparating. They were still rather angry with her actions, so much that they were currently discussing if they wanted their daughter to return to the Wizarding World, something Hermione had already told them they had no choice over. She prepared herself for the imminent travel, deciding that her boyfriend and family needed her more than her parents. Still jetlagged, she knew it would be risky to Apparate, yet she took a deep breath and turned on the spot, not even bothering to leave a note.

She had travelled to the lane in which lead to The Burrow, knowing the protective boundaries wouldn't allow her to travel directly into the grounds. She took her time to walk, her mind racing faster than her body. She couldn't understand the sudden change in Ron's behaviour that Harry had explained in his letter. He had been distant, picking and choosing when to spent time with people and whenever she and Harry had decided Ron had spent enough time brooding on his own he would except their presence when they joined him in his room.

But now, it seemed that he had pushed everyone out, not eaten, a factor that worried Hermione the most-especially as she remembered his behaviour in the tent-all due to lack of food. She walked slowly, just managing to see the crocked roof The Burrow as she craned her neck. She was immediately filled with the feeling of being home, all combined with dread of what she might find; everyone had been so distraught after the war, Hermione had seen things she never thought in her lifetime was possible; like a serious George, or a crying Bill, everyone seemed so lost, the family incomplete, even now when she recalled the names of everyone the list seemed empty.

Hermione found she was mentally preparing herself for what she might find, she knew that Harry would be feeling guilty, secretly blaming himself for all the heartache, she made a mental note to check on him too. She knew she had to be strong-or at least try. The Weasley's couldn't lose anymore, they simply couldn't cope, she wasn't sure if _she_ could even cope, she always acted as she did, as much as Ron did in order to support Harry, and although she gave into, usually breaking down at night in Ron's arms, it was still taking its toll on her. Hermione could fill the pressure from all sides, both sides of parents still wanted to know what they were up too whilst they were away; information all the trio refused to tell. She was needed by Harry and Ron, although the former not so much now he had Ginny, but now, Harry and Ginny might need her more than ever.

She arrived, seeing that the outside of the house was looking tidier than it was when she had left. Instead of heading straight into the rickety house, she made her way to Fred's grave, replacing the flowers she had left before going to Australia with fresh ones. Whipping a tear she headed for the house. Just as Hermione had opened the door she was met with a fierce hug from Mrs Weasley, who began immediately to fuss around her.

Once she had been adequately fed to Mrs Weasley's standards, Hermione and Harry took a walk in one of the vast fields that surrounded The Burrow, where she insisted he tell her everything before she saw Ron.

He woke up with the most amazing pain in his back; he figured it was from the fall combined with lying on the hard wooden floor for an unknown period of time. He laid there for a while, enjoying the constant throb that beat in tandem with his heart. It brought a smile to Ron's face, he had achieved his goal for that day; supplying pain without the use of a knife-although using sharp objects was still his favourite way of getting his fix.

He could hear voices coming from below, it sounded vaguely like his mother in some sort of excitement, not that he could be sure, he hadn't heard his mother's voice in such a long time he thought he had forgotten it.

The pain was beginning to dull, thinking that moving might encourage it, Ron managed to stand up, using the window sill to lean on. His head was spinning so fast, it was to the point that it was making him nauseous.

He managed to regain control of head, he found it took longer than usual, not that it worried him, he had all night. For a while he stood there, eyes closed, tiredness and lack of pain attempting to take over but not quite succeeding. Ron allowed his senses to overtake the mad rushing of thoughts in his head; he could hear crying, it was hysterical, every sob grated through him, each one coursing guilt, hate and shame into his soul. He knew for sure that the sound was coming from his mother, he had heard it, caused that sound too many times.

Unable to stand it anymore, he stumbled over to his draws raiding through it to find his release; he was so focused into finding any sharp object he didn't hear the knocking at his door. Eventually he found it, not even bothering to take the time to admire the sharpness, nor how shiny the blade was, he searched his arms for a space: there wasn't one. He moved over to his legs, almost laughing out loud that his arms were now so filled up with his art that we had to find a new canvas. Just as he dug the blade into his, the door handle began to turn, how was it unlocked? Unless…

His mind was racing, the only person who knew the lock charm he had used would be Hermione, after all he had learnt it from her, but she couldn't be here, she had told Ron herself she wouldn't be back for another week or so. He was panic stricken; he needed to feel the blood pour down his leg, for the pain to render him unconscious. He dragged the blade across his skin just as the door opened.


	5. Scandalous

_A/N: HAPPY EASTER! I decided that it was probably a bit mean to leave you with a cliff hanger for too long and as a Easter present to you all, here's the next chapter! It might a few more weeks until you hear from me again, I need to get more chapters complete, (I have up to 8 finished and edited) but depending on how fast I get the chapters done, I might update weekly! Please remember the warnings: THIS IS STORY ABOUT SELF HARM AND DEPRESSION, I know it seems stupid reminding you, especially if you have read from the beginning but I want to be careful. Thank you so much for reviews, they mean so much and make me rather happy, please keep them coming! I hope you all had some lovely chocolate and enjoy!  
Love xAx _

**DISCLAIMER: IF I OWNED HARRY POTTER I'M SURE HE WOULD HAVE BROUGHT ME SOME HONEY DUKES FINEST CHOCOLATE-BUT HE DIDN'T!  
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She found him laying on his bed, back to her. Hermione took her time to focus on the room; it was messy, although that wasn't anything new, the only light provided was from the window. All the posters that used to hang on the walls were torn, and lying abandoned on the floor. Many of the pictures frames had been smashed, the walls had dent marks in, clearly from being punched. She took a deep breathe before stepping over the clothes that rested over the floor and took a seat on his bed.

He appeared to be sleeping, a talent he become an expert at, especially when it meant convincing Hermione. Ron preyed that she hadn't heard the noise from the other side of the door, he had been casting silencing charms ever since his isolation, and although he was aware they were becoming weaker as his magical power diminished, he still hoped they held somewhat.

He felt her lay down beside him, he had removed their make shift bed the day Hermione went to Australia; they had only really made it for her anyway. He knew she would wait for him to awake-just as he was about turn over and pretend to wake up, his mind and body dragged him into the darkness once more.

Ron jerked awake, the image of Fred exploding in blood imprinted onto the inside of his eyelids. He hadn't realised that a pair of arms had wrapped themselves round him until he heard Hermione's soft whispers of comfort. She clearly had stayed up waiting for him to be pulled from his deep, restless sleep, she had dark circles under her eyes, which were bloodshot, and her face was pale, frowning with worry. Ron almost felt the small amount of fullness at her presence. Almost.

He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, he had forced her away from her parents, her home, in order to look after him, when he knew there was nothing to look after, and he didn't deserve it, she was too good for him. He felt her lay him down before administering a potion, he didn't care what it was, it could have been poison and he would have still drunk it. He fought off the tiredness overtaking him, wanting to stay awake, he had become so accustom to watching the moon at night. But he wasn't strong enough fight the closing of his eyelids.

He could feel the potion wearing off, his eyes were becoming lighter but Ron didn't bother to open them. He could feel Hermione's stare on his back, probably noticing how thin he had become, how pale his skin looked and how his red eyes screamed that he hadn't had a proper nights sleep in a long while. He could no longer take her stares, he knew he had to look at her at some point, mentally wincing, at both the aching pain of his leg and what may happen he opened his eyes and turned, where he was greeted by an unexpected kiss, closely followed by a sharp slap on the arm.

Ron knew very well that his family were waiting on tender hooks to see what result Hermione's return would bring, he therefore had to plan his game very carefully; he would normally start an argument, informing Hermione he was capable of looking after himself, but he and Hermione both knew that information was incorrect, and in hindsight Hermione would win the fight. Now that she was here, Ron was very aware that he wouldn't have the peace of spending everyday locked in his room. He was also aware that they hadn't spoken a word to each other; he vaguely wondered whether his voice actually worked any more.

He was so lost in thoughts that he hadn't realised that Hermione had moved off the bed and was searching through the clothes spilled out on the floor before throwing a bundle of clothes at him.

"Come on, get dressed, and we can have some breakfast and go for a walk." Not feeling the strength to argue he slowly began to get up from the bed, as he moved a satisfied Hermione went to wait outside while he changed. Ron took his time, trying to gather any courage he might have in him, he soon gave up and attempted to come up with he could tell her, without giving himself away. Hermione returned to the room just as he was correcting the jumper he had placed over his head.

Ron followed her down the stairs, dreading the faces that may be staring at him from the kitchen table, however when he got there the only people still eating the last of their breakfast were Harry and Ginny, who he figured Hermione had forewarned, along with his mother, who placed a piled plate in front of him, that he would be present. He felt so many emotions at once, he could feel the blood pumping in his veins, pulsating through the arm of his jumper, begging to be cut, he wanted nothing more to run up to his room and lock it three times over, he couldn't stand the stare his mother was giving him, filled with utter sadness with a glimpse of hope. But he also found that he wanted Harry and Ginny to look him, instead of deliberately diverting their gazes. The smell of the food made his stomach larch; he knew it would be impossible to eat five mouthfuls, let alone half of it like he was suspecting they wanted. He picked through it, occasionally eating a mouthful. When all present at the table were satisfied that he had eaten enough, Ron and Hermione ventured into the wild garden.

They made their way to the large oak tree, sitting at the base. Ron had decided he wasn't going to strike up any conversation, he personally enjoyed the silence, but we wondered how long it would be before Hermione couldn't take it. Soon enough she took a deep breath and spoke:

"It's nice to be back, home just isn't the same."

Ron merely grunted quietly, neither ignoring nor answering her. He was pleased she was here, he truly was, but already the company of anyone for this amount of time was suffocating. She looked him, Ron could feel her penetrating stare pierce through his skin, and he could almost hear her brain churning, as if she was trying to think of things to say. Ron knew he was being unfair, hell this was the treatment he would use on himself, not Hermione, she didn't deserve it. He too took a deep breathe.

"How are your parents? Were they angry?" he wasn't surprised to hear that his voice was cracked and quiet, he also found it hurt slightly to talk.

"They're fine. Well at least their memories are, as for the angry part, when I left the house they were discussing whether I should be locked away from the Wizarding World, and now they are probably ripping up my room trying to find clues of my whereabouts."

Again, he didn't verbally acknowledge that he had heard her, but nodded slightly. In truth Ron didn't know how to answer her statement, they both had discussed and guessed correctly what her parents would do when they recovered their old memories the day Hermione arrived at The Burrow, almost a year ago. Ron desperately wanted to keep the topic of conversation on her, in order to avoid the questions he knew Hermione was bursting to ask.

"So what did you think of Australia? Did you do much site seeing?"

She went into one of her long speeches about the history and culture of both Muggle and Wizard Australia, while Ron occasionally showed his apparent interest by using "Really?" and "that's amazing" when really he found staring at the beautiful scene before him, knowing he didn't deserve to be seeing it.

Ron knew very well that Hermione knew he wasn't listening to her, but it wasn't unknown for him to switch off during on of her long lectures. She stopped talking eventually, lapsing into a quiet neither knew, it was like the calm before the storm. Ron could tell she was building up to the subject he wanted to avoid.

"How you been? Harry said you've spent most of the time I was away in your room." She was twisting her fingers together, staring at them while she spoke. Ron's body froze; he had nothing to say to excuse his odd behaviour. He was very aware that she was waiting for him to answer, to say anything, not to do so was practically admitting to his crime.

"I suppose everything was starting to catch up on me, I mainly slept to be honest." It was a shit attempt, they both knew it. Hermione looked at him disbelieving, before confirming what he was thinking.

"Come on, we both know that's a lie." Her voice was almost hard, but softened her voice as she continued:

"We all know you were out of it before, even when you were spending time with Harry, Ginny and I in the tree house. Ron, you can talk to me, it's what I am here for."

"I know, but there's nothing to talk about. I'm fine." He silently thanked their practice for improvising out of situations.

"You are not fine Ron!" her tone was back to being harsh, tinted with slight hurt. "Spending weeks in your room, hidden away from your family, not eating isn't fine, you're even thinner than when I left you, and you look like you haven't slept in years. You are not fine, so stop lying to me." He immediately felt a pang of guilt so strong he felt nauseous. He wanted to wipe the tears that were running down her beautiful face, but resisted, worried that her tears would burn him as punishment that it was his entire fault.

"I'm sorry, really I am." He was determined not to argue, but knew that whatever he said could be the wrong thing, in truth he didn't really know why he was apologising.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you in Australia, that I wasn't around, I just needed to sort my head out."

"Its okay, I didn't expect to drag you from your family across the world." She took a pause, maybe questioning whether she should ask her next question;

"So how did you sort your head out? If I can say, whatever it is, it's not working, and you seemed pretty out of it when I arrived yesterday."

He didn't where his reply came from, but it seamed to be the most obvious one in the world.

"I relented and started to have meetings with Mrs Steed. She told me that I would most likely to get worse before I got better, especially when things are changing. As for being out of it, well even Mrs Steed cant work miracles, then again he is employed by the Ministry, she's going to be shit at her job- I haven't really slept since you went, last night was the first I slept all night in weeks."

She seemed to take his bait, for she nodded and half smiled. He knew he had to return to his old tricks; masking what was really going on his head with a chilled, joke able Ron. He couldn't get caught, it was too close last night, and he just hoped he could be as devious as he used to be.


	6. Next To Nothing

_A/N: Hello! Okay so here is chapter six, I have no idea when you will hear from me again, I have two chapters after this already complete but I seemed to have hot the wall, I don't really want to post all my completed chapters and then leave you hanging, but hopefully I will sort it out before that time comes! Thank you to all for your support: reviews, alerts etc.... I hope you like this chapter) Please read and review!  
Love xAx_

WARNING: STORY CONTAINS SELF HARM AND DEALS WITH THE ISSUE OF DEPRESSION!  


**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, RON WEASLEY, HERMIONE GRANGER OR THE BURROW..NONE OF IT IS MINE!**  
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Ron and Hermione spent the rest of the day hidden from the spring sun, in the shade of the tree. Ron could tell Hermione was worrying over the lack of lunch he hadn't eaten, but for Ron, he never wanted to leave the place he currently sat, however, it wasn't long before they heard the shouts of Mrs Weasley, calling them in for dinner.

The table was crowed, much more crowed than Ron remembered, he could feel the tension fill the air as he walked in and took his seat, keeping his eyes on the floor. He had guessed that his father, Bill, Percy, Charlie and George had been updated on his behaviour when they came home via the Floo network, he also came to the conclusion that all were warned not to comment by his mother. He ate as little as he could, as he could get away with, mainly pushing the food on his plate around. The conversation was stiff; everyone was avoiding the one topic they all desperately wanted to discuss.

Before long he couldn't stand it; he wanted to shout that everyone either stare at him or look at their plates. Placing his fork down, Ron silently got up, and went towards the stairs. He found himself mentally thanking Hermione, for he heard her mention that he was tired. He decided that a hot shower would allow him to think, and to relieve his stress, while treating his body to the familiar burning sensation the hot water would bring.

_Flashback_

'_Bill and Fleur's, Bill and Fleur's'- they were the only thoughts going through his head, anything to get away from the snatchers. He knew arriving out of the blue, on his own would cause suspicion but right now he didn't care. _

_He was wet through, the cold whether finally chilling his bones; he concentrated on the pain focused in his fingers, and the blade he had secured in his other hand. Ron found himself staring at the door belonging to his brother's house, he couldn't quite bring himself to knock. He just managed to raise his fist when the door was pulled open:_

"_Ron, wha…what…the…fuck, you must be freezing." It all happened so fast that suddenly Ron was being pulled into the small hallway by Bill, who had clearly stuck his head out of the door to check that Harry and Hermione were following him into the house. _

"_Where are Harry and Hermione? Aren't they with you?" Ron found himself pressing the blade into the palm of his hand, with a slight shake of his head he looked at the floor. He only heard Bill sigh, Ron didn't need to look at his face to know the disappointment was there. _

"_Why don't you go and have a shower, clean up and I'll get you some food and we'll have a talk." Ron knew Bill was doing his best to keep calm and resist from saying what was going through his head, although it was probably nothing compared to the torment he was putting himself under. _

_The cream walls were taunting him, the flowered patterns creating faces, abusing him for his actions. Bill placed a bowl of soup in front of him whilst taking a seat. Ron could feel his stare burn his skin, he was struggling eating, shame was filling him up. He could see Bill trying to think of ways to conquer the questions he wanted to ask; _

_ "So what happened? You wanna talk about it?" _

_ "Not really." He muttered. Bill looked at him disappointedly. _

_ "Fine, your choice, I think I know anyway." And just like in the tent, Ron snapped;_

_ "Oh of course you do, because your Bill, the eldest the cleverest, the who doesn't leave his fucking friends in the middle of nowhere because there is something else that knows your worthless and not good enough." He stormed out of the doorway and headed for the back room he had changed in earlier, seeking solace in the only thing he wanted. He knew it was would be risky to cut, especially since Bill or Fleur could walk in at any moment, also the cream carpet could be a problem. He therefore couldn't allow his blood to flow free once it began to ooze from the cut, he did however compensate by creating double the cuts, he just had time to hide his blade away before passing out to the clicking sound he was creating by fiddling with the Deluminator. _

_End Flashback_

The water was blistering hot, and as Ron opened his eyes he could barely see across the room. He was slightly glad for the relief the water was offering, but now a days it was never truly enough. Knowing that he had stashed all his blades in his room, he either allowed the water to do its job for now and get a final release when he went up to bed, although there was a risk Hermione or even Harry could be around. Or he found a way cause himself harm in another way there and then, his final choice was too simply use the water as an aid; there was a time when the boiling was enough to ease him, it was all he could do during the times in the tent. He often thought about stopping, or at least decrease his actions but the thought made him shake with anxiety.

Feeling safe in the hot water Ron's thoughts ran away with him; he found himself getting too lost in his head, unable to get out, the whispers of the Locket screaming at him in pictures so loudly and vividly that he hadn't noticed his arm reaching out, punching the wall until, wonderful pain coursed through his arm like a parade. Ron was suddenly brought back reality, aware of the noise he had just created; he wasn't surprised at the worried knocking from the other side of the door.

By the time the knocking ceased Ron had dressed, he opened the door find a worried Harry and Hermione.

"Are you alright? We heard banging." They were the first words Harry had spoken to him all evening, just as Ron was about to answer, Hermione interrupted him, pointing at his aching arm he was unconsciously cradling.

"What's wrong with your arm?" under other circumstances Ron would have given in to the stare he was giving him and allowed her to inspect his injuring, however he already had an explanation.

"I slipped in the shower, used my arm to stop myself and fell on it awkwardly, it will be fine, I just need to rest it, maybe get some ice." He silently praised himself for the perfect delivery, he could see she was trying to find a flaw in his answer, deciding he was probably telling the truth, she reached for his arm and went to push his long sleeve up. It all happened in a blink; Ron pulled his arm from her reach, ignoring the hurt look that flashed on over her face, simply because he could stand the guilt that racked through him whenever he managed to hurt her.

"I'm sorry, it hurt more than I expected. I'll just get some ice." He walked back down the stairs, heading for the kitchen leaving Harry and Hermione on the landing.


	7. Skeptics And True Believers

_A/N: Hello! Hope you all are enjoying the sunshine! Here is the next part of the story, Hermowninny I can ensure you they find out soon. Thank you so much for your reviews, I really appreciate it! This chapter is probably the closest to my heart, most of it is written based on my feelings, and I happened to be in the same situation as Ginny. I have one more chapter completed after this one, so if theres a gap between updates my apologies. Thanks for the support. Please read & review and enjoy!  
Love xAx_

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY ASPECT OF HARRY POTTER!  
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They say war changes people, that the things they've seen and done creates a tidal wave in someone's personality. The words swam around Ginny's mind; she supposed the words were true, she'd seen her parent's change, even in a blink of an eye she watched as her mother went from loving and kind to fierce protector of her children from Death Eaters. Her father, she noted had aged, become slightly closed off as he dealt with the loss of Fred. Her brothers, who all used to use humour as a way to barrier themselves from their actual feeling showed for the first time in Ginny's life, a weakness, the laughter had disappeared from their lives. Hermione had become a stronger woman than before, although she was still closer to Harry and Ron than to Ginny. The one person who hadn't changed too much in Ginny's eyes was Harry, she figured it was due to the fact he had grown up in a war, he always knew what he had to face since he was young, now he could finally live his life. However, the one person who had changed the most was Ron.

They had always been close; they only ever had each other when they were little. She remembered sulking the day he got his Hogwarts letter, wondering how she was going to cope for nearly a year on her own. After his exciting year, Ron seemed just as happy to see Ginny as she was him. He recounted the adventures he had with Harry and Hermione, informing her all the secrets of Hogwarts. She noticed the difference in him as the years went by, he slowly pulled away from everyone, including Harry and slightly Hermione, although he still maintained his protective streak for his little sister, something Ginny was secretly glad for.

By his sixth year, Ginny had noticed that Ron had finally pulled away from her, and his behaviour became irrational, resulting in his disastrous relationship with Lavender, he became selfish, a factor that didn't exist in Ron's personality. Ginny thought she had her brother back for good after his poisoning, she remembered how they had one of the best talks in almost a year; she had joked about how they only seemed to talk when he was in hauled up in bed after some adventure he had been on.

At the point she was keeping him company, as well as keeping an eye out for Lavender, she wondered if his sudden change in behaviour was due to the attack in the Department of Mysteries, he had scars on his arms left by the brains, as well as some odd lines that looked hand created, some looked older than others, some still raised and red as if new

Ginny's thoughts went to the year Harry, Ron and Hermione went to do Dumbledore's bidding. Her anxiety levels were three times higher than usual; and by the time Fred and George had created "_Potterwatch_" Ginny was staring to believe all this worry was going to lead to a breakdown; but they returned, they were alive and somehow brought down Voldemort. She always detested their secretary; they even created ways to prevent her from finding anything out. She never truly realised how much information they knew, usually information they shouldn't know, she also never noticed how little Ron told her, he had a way which told her the story without really divulging information. It wasn't until her and the family were being whisked away to Grimmauld Place that she realised that she hadn't been told the full story of Sirius' escape from an apparently secure cell in Hogwarts.

She allowed her mind to clear, even if it was for a few minutes, she would never admit to it but Ginny seemed to inherit her mother's trait of worrying. She heard the corruption coming from the bathroom and the sounds of worried voices and allowed them to wash over her. The silence allowed her mind to begin thinking again; Ginny returned to the weeks she spent sat outside Ron's bedroom, she used to plead for him to come out, to talk, eat, anything. She convinced herself that he knew she was there, and that her presence would bring Ron out of his isolation, but he didn't her; Ginny couldn't help to feel hurt at how Hermione's arrival suddenly brought him out. He had always been good acting as if he was alright; everyone knew he was a dab hand at acting, it was the only way he, Harry and Hermione got away from all the situations they found themselves in, but Ron seemed to abuse the technique; he appeared fine on the outside, he would joke around, still beat everyone at chess and get into some kind of argument with Hermione. But Ginny knew, she could always tell when something was bothering him. She released the tension that was trapped in her back and shoulders, the family meals of the day had been awkward, Mrs Weasley had warned that if any of them muttered about his presence at the table she would not be held responsible for the consequences. Everyone notice he hardly ate, his trick of pushing food around the plate became old when George was attempting it, but they didn't notice the haunted look in his eyes, which had dark shadows underneath; they always gave him away, his eyes, Ginny had learnt from a young age that all she had to do was look in his eyes to see what he was really feeling in his soul.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Hermione storming in to the room and talking deep breathes and muttering to herself while she settled on her bed. Usually Ginny's thoughts weren't disturbed but they seemed less intense as she was trying to make out what the voices outside the door were saying, she was also slightly focused on Hermione's mood, which seemed worried, tense and if not a bit angry rather than relaxed.

"Something bothering you Hermione?" She said as gently as she could as not to startle her friend, but Hermione still jumped a little at realising she had company.

"Oh sorry Gin, I didn't know you were in here."

"Am hiding from mum, before she gets me to clean or cook something, I swear this place has never been so tidy." She meant it to come out at a humorous remark, but it didn't seem to exist as she remembered the reason behind her mother's manic behaviour.

"So, what's up?" Ginny moved her position so she could see Hermione's face; she looked tired, although that was expected with her staying up all night to look after Ron, combined with jet lag.

"Honestly Ginny, I don't know where to start." Hermione rubbed her hand over her face.

"Why don't I start you off…How are things with your parents?"

"Horrid. If I am not being shouted at about what I did, and how wrong performing magic on them was, how it took away their human rights, how ashamed they are of me that I sold their and I emphasis on the word _'their'_ business, the one thing in our lives that allowed me to go to Hogwarts. They are ignoring me, giving me looks and discussing if and how I should be kept away from the Wizarding world." She took a deep breathe and was red in the face, anger pulsating from her. Just as Ginny was about speak, Hermione continued her rant:

"And then just yesterday I packed my stuff and left…my room has probably been torn up, they have mostly guessed I am here, and now I don't think I have anywhere to go."

Ginny waited a few minutes just to ensure Hermione had finished, although she was sure there was more that was bothering her friend than Hermione was letting on.

"Can I talk now? You'll always have…"

"And now my boyfriend…"

"Or you can carry on" Ginny muttered before listening.

"… Is now apparently coping after everything we went through, which resulted in a self induced exile, passing out, not eating and telling me he was, what were the words, ' that he got caught up in his head' and that he is fine."

"Look Hermione, Your parents will get over it, they realise what you did protected them as well as you. And you do know your always welcome here, hell you've lived here more than at your house. As for Ron, well, we're all a bit stuck on what to do."

"Thanks Gin." For the time she had entered the room, Hermione had a smile on her face, although it didn't last long.

"I suppose it's a positive thing he is talking to Mrs Steed."

Ginny was started, where had she got that idea from? She distinctively remembered Ron shouting a varied of profanities at the woman before storming of to his room, not to be seen until Hermione's arrival.

"Hermione what are you talking about?"

"Ron said he started to have the sessions Mrs Steed offered us, mentioned something about getting worse before he got better." Her voice was getting quieter with each word, as she looked at Ginny.

"Hermione. He hasn't spoken to her since he told where to stick her 'sessions' and took solace in his room the day you left."

Hermione simply stared at her, a disbelieving look on her face.

"He hasn't been to one session."


	8. All Fall Down

_A/N: Hello! Happy Wizard Independence Day, *chants "long live Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger!"* so here is the next chapter, its all I have written, apart from the beginning of the next chapter, so if you have any suggestions for how you want it, let me know! I hope you all enjoy the bank holiday! Thank you for your reviews and for still being with me! 3 Please read and review!  
Love xAx_

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!**

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Ron knew he had to convince Harry and Hermione he was going to fix his arm, so he made his way into the kitchen and to the freezer to get some ice. He was very aware of Harry following and watching his every move, the year of being on high alert told him where his friend was situated without Ron having to look. He placed the ice in a towel, knowing it will be an easy convincer, one that will be thrown out of the window when he got to his room. Placing it on his throbbing hand, Ron headed for the door muttering a 'night' to Harry.

He was relieved that Hermione wasn't waiting for him where he left her on the landing; Ron figured she had gone to talk to Ginny, for there were voices coming from her room. He paused his ascent to remove the ice from his hand, it was then he heard his name in a typical Hermione speech.

Ron knew he should have walked on, but something in the way Hermione spoke rooted him to the spot. He cursed himself for not ensuring that everything was alright with her parents. Ron silently thanked Ginny for taking care of Hermione when he couldn't and promised himself to make his appreciation known to his sister, until she spoke again…

"He hasn't been to one session."

His body moved before his brain noticed the movement, he made it to his room slamming the door behind him, not caring for the noise he made. His mind was reeling; '_would Hermione believe Ginny?' 'What in the name of Merlin could he say when she confronts him?' _He locked his door and went to the box hidden under his bed where he kept a newly sharpened blade.

He wasn't aware of how much time passed, he had been focusing on the rush that seemed to consume his whole body, Ron figured it was in head; the more he thought about the adrenaline flowing through his veins, the more he felt it. For the first time in his life he thanked the fact that his parents couldn't afford to get a carpet for his room, as he siphoned the pool of blood from the floor with his wand. Ron crawled to his bed and lay there in a conscious comatose state. He had finally run out of ideas on how to hide his secret, four years he had managed to conceal to his family and friends, how he hasn't slept properly, how everything he did was no longer fun; he detested Quidditch and on a bad day, chess. He spent most of his time hidden in his room or staring into space, not contributing when surrounded by people because he didn't want them there, he liked to be alone but at the same time loathed his own company. He hated his own body and mind, the sheer anger at his lanky frame caused him to lash out by cutting, he was already covered in scars, more wouldn't hurt, and it wasn't as if he was so important people would notice.

He was week, pathetic and useless; he often wondered why Harry and Hermione wanted him around, especially when it came their 'adventures', Hermione was the clever one, she figured out the flaws in the plans, identified concealments and provided useful spells. Harry was brave and strong, he always overcome the hurdles placed in front of him and saved the world from danger, he gave everyone hope and even when he was hurt, either emotional or physically he came through. And what was he, Ronald Weasley, the one who followed, offered humour, '_Ha' _he thought. He had figured a while ago that people were more likely laughing at him and the joke that was his life rather than with him. He wasn't important, if he was then people would remember him; they would remember that he helped save Ginny from the chamber or that he destroyed one of the most evil dark artefacts on Earth, or saved Dean, Luna, Griphook and Mr Ollivander from the Malfoy's cellar. But even Ron knew that Harry was the real and only reason those people were brought to safety.

He desperately wished sleep would over take him, anything for him to get out of his mind for a while; he would even welcome the nightmares, even they seemed more like dreams compared to his life.

"You're a failure" Ron muttered to himself. He failed Harry and Hermione when he walked out of the tent. He failed to protect the girl he loves from being tortured. He failed to protect Ginny, and failed Fred. He would never forgive himself for any of it, his failure and uselessness cost his brother his life, which then caused his family pain they didn't deserve.

He knew that he couldn't stay where he was, staring at nothing, locked inside his own brain. He had to at least try to keep up his façade; even if it meant the sake of his relationship with Hermione, she was the one who knew him well enough, would notice when he was struggling with his emotions, he already hated himself for all the lying to her already, she was too good for him, she didn't deserve the deceit and hurt, she should be happy, and he loved her too much to ruin her life when she had so much to give, it would be a painful process, and he figured he would have to lie to ensure she got the message, but he had means on how to deal with torment.

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_A/N: So who knows what could happen....someone might find out very soon!  
_x x x


	9. The Analyst

_A/N: I am so sorry, words cannot explain how sorry I am! Apologies for the short chapter, I have the next one already started and it should be up soon! I would just like to say to risiepookie: thank you so much for your review, it warmed my heart!  
Enough of me blabbing, I hope you enjoy!  
love xAx_

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!  


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For once in her life Hermione didn't know what to do. She had seen the change in Ron, they all had. It was clear that there was more to it than his grief for his brother. It physically pained her how he would shut her out and lock away what he was feeling. He had become like stone. Then there are the lies. The whole time she knew him he had never lied to her, he had a way of avoiding questions but he wouldn't and couldn't lie. She had felt rejected since returning from Australia, even though he had let her in his room, drawing him from his isolation, it was still like he wasn't there.

Hermione had be trying to fall asleep for hours, but it seemed her mind wasn't going to shut down until she worked out what was going on. She finally gave up waiting for sleep; she knew she had left some dreamless sleep potion up in Ron's room from the night before, so she made her way up to the attic.

His room was empty but this didn't startle Hermione, she presumed that he stayed in the kitchen to tend to his arm, or to finally eat something. She was half tempted to stay the night with him again, but something seemed to stop her, she had already kept Harry out of his bed for a night and somehow she didn't think Mrs Weasley would appreciate it becoming a habit. However her main reason for not wanting to stay was Ron himself; she, along with everyone had noticed the change in him, but they had all put it down to losing Fred and the events of their year searching for Horcruxes, but slowly she was beginning to doubt her thoughts. It had become clear when George had started to act like himself again and started to live his life that it occurred to Hermione that Ron's problem was more than grief. The fact remained that they had had a hard year, but even by now they were used to hard years, they had been having them since they were twelve and they always managed to bounce back after a few weeks.

Hermione noticed the potion she had brought up the night before wasn't where she left it, so she begun searching his draws with her mind still wondering.

She never doubted that she loved him, she had watched Harry and Ginny debating whether it was love or lust that carried their relationship but somehow she had always known, she loved him and he loved her. It had physically hurt her to see him in the state he was in; the way he was pulling away from her was like another stab to her heart.

Hermione felt like she had been searching forever until she found the potion, she had searched every draw he owned carefully, although not carefully enough, as she had managed to cut her finger on a blade left haphazardly loose in the bottom of the draw.

She hurried back to the room she shared with Ginny, scared of being caught sneaking around. With a quick spell to her finger to cease the bleeding, she drank what was left in the bottle, finally falling into a peaceful sleep.


	10. UPDATE

Hello.

I'm so sorry for the lack of stories and updates. It was never my intention to leave any of my stories unfinished or simply vanish from the fanfiction world. So I thought I would update you all on what is going on:

To start with, I began working 12 hour shifts at work 4 days a week, so I simply didn't have any time. I have also been ill; one of the reasons why I wrote 'Release' is because both my brother and I have suffered from the issues in the story. Back in June I was placed on Anti-depressants. Signed off work and sent for CBT. I had simply lost all interest in the things I enjoyed. My social and family lives were suffering, I lost a lot of weight and my OCD slowly became so bad my hands were raw. I was scared of going out, spending most of my time on my own in my room. My mind just wasn't on writing and reading.

I know it all sounds rather dramatic, but eventually I realised I needed help. I'm on the mend now, but its still a slow journey. I just thought you should all know, I haven't abandoned my stories, or reading your stories, my mind and heart just wasn't there.

To everyone who has stuck by me, patiently waiting, I cant thank you enough, knowing you are somewhere at the end of this story means so much. To those who have recently reviewed, alerted, and favourite. I apologise for not replying.

I will be back. I want to edit my 'Afterschock' story and complete 'Release' and 'Left Behind' as well as starting some new fictions.

If you have any requests, questions anything, feel free to personal message me.

I will be posting this onto 'Release' and 'Aftershock' so if you have Update Alerts on both, you will get two emails. Please check my profile for more updates, I'm more likely to keep you informed on there.

Thank you so much guys! I love you all so much. I hope you are all well and I shall see you soon!

Love Jamy

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